


Recompense

by AK_Qhyrstol



Series: The Lake of Avalon [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Era, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, all the pendragons in one place, basically they float around in a lake, could be catastrophic, courtesy of lady joanna
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AK_Qhyrstol/pseuds/AK_Qhyrstol
Summary: In the Lake of Avalon, Arthur finally gets to know his mother and his ancestors fight over whether Merlin is fit to be Arthur's love. Morgana and Uther are distant, but for how long? (The answer is not very long.)~Oh. He didn’t have Merlin. What in Hell’s name was he supposed to say now? ‘Hello’? ‘How are you?’ Was that too standard to say to your dead relative? What would Merlin say? ‘How did you die?’ ‘Why are you talking about my love life?’ ‘Is there any particular reason why you’re arguing about my love life?’ Why were they talking about Arthur’s love life anyway? Don’t they have better things to do? Dead people things?(The Lake of Avalon:1, 2 (here), 3 (tbd).)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Ygraine de Bois & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Lake of Avalon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019596
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	1. Ygraine de Bois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's mother introduces him to his family and... Chaos.

Waking up was disorienting at first as Arthur could feel the sharp coldness of the water against his skin, but any panic quickly melted away as slender fingers soothingly brushed through his hair. No one had done this to him besides Guinevere - his heart panged uncomfortably at the remembrance of her - and he was once again reminded of how good it felt. It was comforting. In a way, it reminded him of his mother. 

Hang on… wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

“Arthur, are you awake?” a soft, feminine voice asked him. Arthur jolted in surprise, which took a lot of more effort than usual, a force seeming to restrict his movements. His eyes flew open to take in the figure above him, his head in her lap.

Upon the rock sat Ygraine de Bois, her hair and face just like he remembered it, except… No, it couldn’t be… His mother was the same shade of blue his father was when Arthur accidentally released him into the land of the living. It shouldn’t have been as jarring as it was, but… 

Arthur sat up, growing increasingly confused by the second as he looked around. Everything was… blue. They were surrounded by dark, chilling water and it should have been completely pitch black, but his mother exuded a soft glow that illuminated several feet around them. 

Arthur was also blue, but it was… different. More transparent while his mother was opaque. He could look through his hand and see the rock beneath them, the water seeming to go right through him, even through his bones. How was he breathing? Arthur’s hand flew up to his throat, but he did not feel the suffocation he expected. It was as if he didn’t need to breathe at all. 

“Where are we?” Arthur asked quietly. His voice didn’t carry far. “Where is everyone?”

“We are in the Lake of Avalon, my dear,” Ygraine answered, caressing his cheek. “You have done so well, love, but it is time for you to rest.”

“What? No, that- where’s Merlin?” he asked, looking around. There was no one but he and his mother, sitting on a rock in the middle of a lake. What kind of madness was this?

“Your warlock is on the banks. I fear he is quite distraught.” Ygraine replied. 

“So I’m-?” Arthur looked at this mother, an urgent question in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But do not worry; there will be a time where you rise again.”

… What?

“What do you mean?”

“There is a prophecy that the Once and Future King - you - will rise from the Lake at the time of Albion’s greatest need. Well, that is what the druids told me.”

“There are druids here? Wait, how did you know where Merlin was? You said he was on the banks, but I can’t see anything down here.”

“Of course the druids are here, this is the gate between the living and the dead. All kinds of people reside here.” Ygraine very clearly did not answer his second question, so Arthur prodded for more.

“Yes, but can you _see_ Merlin? Why can’t I see him? I mean, he _is_ an idiot, but he’s a useful idiot at times and- mother, what is it?” Arthur asked, concerned as he saw the saddened look on her face.

“I can only hear Merlin, dear. He has not stopped crying for several weeks.”

“... Weeks?”

He’s been dead for _weeks?_ But it only felt like a couple of hours! Merlin has been on the banks for who knows how long now! Doesn’t he need… food? Or water? He should at least find a comfortable place to sleep, for Heaven’s sake! But… Arthur could not blame him, despite his concern. He was sure that if the roles were reversed, he would be doing the same, if not faring worse. 

“Time passes here a little quicker,” was all she said.

“So, it won’t be long until I see Merlin?” Arthur asked, trying to hide the surge of emotion that elation in his chest. Ygraine did not seem to share this emotion. Instead, her face crumpled and she looked away from him. 

“Merlin won’t ever join us in the Lake, love,” she whispered. Arthur could barely hear the words, but when they registered, he stared at her in disbelief.

“What do you mean?? Of course he will, he’ll… he’ll die eventually… or do you mean that he’ll go… somewhere else?”

Arthur didn’t want to say Hell specifically as he could be in Hell for all he knew, but Ygraine shook her head nevertheless. 

“Merlin is an immortal, Arthur, although he does not yet understand the extent of that. He is a source of magic, not just a sorcerer. Even if his body ages, he has the power over life and death and can remain youthful forever, if he wishes. But he is still young at heart. He does not understand. He will soon.”

“So I’ll- you mean to say-”

“You won’t see him anytime soon. I’m so sorry, love, I know how you care for him so.”

Arthur stared at her, trying to see if she was lying to him, but all he could see was sorrowful sincerity in her eyes. He looked away, directly into the darkness as the information settled like a dark cloud over his head.

“We’ll never see each other again,” Arthur whispered in disbelief, the words seemingly false to his ears and yet… 

“You will,” Ygraine insisted, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. Arthur didn’t have the heart to move away. “Once you’re revived, you will see him. That I can promise you, Arthur. It is only a matter of ‘when’.”

They sat there together on the rock and didn’t move for quite some time. Arthur didn’t want to move. Arthur didn’t want to do… anything. He didn’t have anything to _not_ want to do in the first place. As King, he would have relished in moments of relaxation, but now… Now Arthur just wanted to go home. 

Ygraine was humming a Celtic song Arthur vaguely remembered. It had been long since he’d heard the tune, but he could not remember where he’d heard it. However, Arthur did not bother to ask.

After a while, Arthur grew agitated in the silence. He had no idea how long had passed - the sense of time here was _off,_ to say the least - but it felt like hours. Maybe it was years. He didn’t know anything anymore. 

“If everyone is here, does that mean… _everyone?_ My fallen knights? People from the Purge? My… My father as well?” Arthur hesitatingly forced out the last part. 

Arthur did not like speaking of his father. He could recognize now that his father was wrong in many things, magic being one of them (although, Morgana had certainly not helped in Arthur’s realisation of that). The last time Uther had interacted with him, he tried to kill him. It was probably for the best that they did not meet for a long time. 

“Yes, of course, although this is a very large place. It would be nearly impossible to find them unless you spread the word.” Ygraine answered coolly. She did not mention his father. 

“I do not see anyone,” Arthur said, looking out into the pitch black darkness of the water. 

“That is because we are not where everyone else is, Arthur. You appeared closer to the edges of the Lake than everyone else. Well, I suppose except for one.” 

“Who?”

“Her name is Freya, but I don’t suspect you’ll meet her anytime soon. She is quite a shy girl. I fear she had something awful happen to her, going by the downtrodden look on her face some of the time. But she is a nice girl, I think.”

“Why is she like me?”

“I do not know. She appeared one day - before you became King, I might add - looking immensely sad, always looking up at the banks. I think your Merlin was there, although I have not the heart to ask her why.”

“Merlin? He sent her off? Alone?” Arthur asked, confused. Why hadn’t Merlin told him of this? They could have done it together and had a proper funeral for her if it was someone he cared for. 

“Yes, but I do not know why.” Ygraine didn’t say anything more on the matter, and they fell into another short silence. Arthur couldn’t take it, so he steadied himself on the rock, then climbed down the edge. His mother didn’t stop him, just watched him slowly slide off the rock before joining him. Arthur held out his hand to aid her in her decline to the Lake floor. 

“So my ancestors are here as well?” Arthur asked.

“Yes! Of course, oh- I should introduce you to the family, Arthur!” Ygraine smiled, her mood instantly changing. Maybe the water made people forgetful. Arthur was determined not to lose his grip, though. After all, he can’t have Merlin tease hi-

Arthur sadly looked up at the surface of the water above. Right. No Merlin. He could… He could live with that. Couldn’t he? Arthur wished he didn’t have to figure this out in this way, but there is nothing for it. 

Arthur let his mother drag him back to ‘civilization,’ and all the while she started rattling off names like he hadn’t been forced to memorize them as a child. 

“How long have you been waiting for me to wake up, anyway?” Arthur asked offhandedly. His mother paused and looked at him.

“Oh, it has been a couple of days since I found you, I believe. I am not certain, however. It is hard to tell here.” she replied before continuing on about their friends and family. She did not once mention Uther or Agravaine. 

After a few moments on trudging through the rocks, Arthur and his mother finally came upon the centre of the Lake, bright blue-green lights shining in the distance. Arthur’s jaw dropped at the sight of the _amount_ of people that seemed to live here. It didn’t look far off from a regular town, but now people appeared… happier. Freer than they had been whilst living. Arthur reasoned that they certainly didn’t seem to have to worry about food any longer, or how they would survive winter’s chill. They could spend time with their family here, they could do whatever they wanted. 

Arthur’s eyes trailed after a group of children. One of their eyes glowed yellow for a moment before a small castle made of rocks and sand and mud constructed itself before his eyes, and they and the other children cheered before going to climb inside. 

“Magic is free here, is it?” Arthur asked softly. Ygraine grabbed his shoulder gently and nodded. 

“Arthur, about your father,” Ygraine whispered as if the words themselves pained her. 

“What… what about him?” Arthur asked, trying not to sound too interested. But the truth was that he severely wanted to know what his father was doing and what his mother thought of him. Although, he didn’t expect much.

“Your father and I do not speak any longer,” she said firmly, a raging fire in her eyes. 

“Why?”

“What your father did after I died giving birth to you - which I do not regret and never will regret, Arthur, because I am very proud of the man you have become - your father, as you know, went on… a rampage.” Ygraine frowned into the distance.

“The Great Purge?” Arthur clarified. Ygraine nodded. 

“We do not speak any longer because of what he did those thirty-some years ago and for what he kept doing as King. He killed innocent people, Arthur, people that did not deserve such treatment. People who just wanted to live their lives freely.” Ygraine gestured to the magical children nearby, who were pretending to be dragons. “And I could not look at him when he died. I could not look at him because he is a murderer, Arthur, not the man I knew. So, we do not speak any longer, and I would appreciate it if you did not as well.”

“And… your brother Agravaine?”

“I have made it clear to him that I do not wish to see him.” 

Arthur nodded, “That is good for I have no intention either. You were saying something about your father?” 

“Oh, yes!” Ygraine brightened. It was a little odd that they were around the same age now. “Right this way, your family lives on this hill over here, they’ve all been wanting to meet you for ages now, but I said they should wake until you woke up. I’m afraid you will not meet Tristan, my other brother, as he passed on after… well, let’s not think of that. Also, ignore Lady Vivienne if you come across her.”

“Why?”

Ygraine did not answer but relentlessly dragged him along the Lake floor until they came across a small hill. There on the hill were Arthur’s ancestors in all their glory… while they argued. Heatedly. About… him, or so it seemed. 

“The boy has already married!” an elderly man screeched. 

“So? It is not unknown to have a male consort, is it?” a portly woman retorted.

Ah. Not necessarily about him, then. How did they know about… Gods, he really didn’t want to know the answer to that. 

“It’s not normal!” came the screeching man. 

“Can you calm down?! He’s already dead, you can’t change the past!” interjected another man with a great beard. 

“Ygraine, darling!” a woman with many elaborate braids exclaimed with enthusiasm, catching sight of Arthur and his mother, “Who’s that you’ve got th- oh. Oh, sard- Everyone, shut up, he’s here!” 

Arthur was… _very_ overwhelmed to see everyone’s attention turn to him. There were approximately ten people (give or take), so having around that many eyes trained on you was sort of unsettling. However, Arthur was mostly used to it at this point, although he didn’t have Merlin-

Oh. He didn’t have Merlin. What in Hell’s name was he supposed to say now? ‘Hello’? ‘How are you?’ Was that too standard to say to your dead relative? What would Merlin say? ‘How did you die exactly?’ ‘Why are you talking about my love life?’ ‘Is there any particular reason why you’re _arguing_ about my love life?’ Why _were_ they talking about Arthur’s love life anyway? Don’t they have better things to do? Dead people things? Wait, he’s supposed to be saying something. Uh-

Before he could do anything, the man with the beard walked over to him and boisterously greeted him: “My boy! We were- er- we were just talking about you! Have a seat, have a seat- I would offer you something to drink, but we don’t really have that here, do we! Of course, we have ambrosia cakes, but not everyone can eat such sweet things, am I right?” 

Arthur couldn’t do anything but let the man push him into a seat of rock at the head of a long stone table as everyone else sat down in their seats. They clasped their hands together and waited, looking at him expectantly. Arthur had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he stayed silent, eyeing all the members of the meeting. 

“I believe we should introduce ourselves,” Ygraine prompted from his left side to Arthur’s relief. “You know me, of course, Arthur.”

“How rude of me!” the man with the beard from his right, “My name is Tristram, I believe I am your grandfather on your mother’s side. This is my wife, Igraine.” Tristram gestured to the woman with the braids in her hair, who smiled at him. She did not necessarily look to be someone who swears regularly, but looks can be deceiving…? Arthur nodded his head at her in acknowledgement. 

“Wait…” Arthur said slowly, turning back to Tristram as a memory from his childhood struck him. He didn’t want to be rude or insensitive, but- “Didn’t you get killed with a bucket?”

The entire table burst out laughing, one man thumping Tristram on the back merrily. 

“Oh, be quiet, it’s not like you died any better!”

“Accidentally falling off a tower is much more honourable than being bested by a bucket, brother!” the man laughed. Tristram glared at him over his mighty beard. Tristram’s brother laughed louder and then turned to Arthur with his amusement still written upon his features. 

“Apologies, my King, but my brother will never live that down, so we need to remind him of it occasionally,” Tristram’s brother chuckled, “I’m Andruche de Bois, Tristram and I are sons of Andrion de Bois. I think that makes me your grand-uncle?”

Arthur nodded right before another person grabbed his attention by waving her hand: 

“I’m Joanna, call me Jo. I’m your aunt… or something, who knows at this point.” the portly woman introduced loudly, “But _I_ certainly know that _you_ don’t care about that, and neither do I because _I_ want to know why didn’t _you_ confess to Merlin sooner?! You could’ve been going at it for ten years now, but no! I had a betting pool going, you know! I lost almost _all_ my jewellery to the maid on the second hill!” 

“My Lady!” the screeching man exclaimed, “That is most improper!”

“Oh, stuff it, Geraldus! This is the most entertainment I’ve gotten in thirty years! So, Arthur, come on, explain yourself!” Joanna motioned for him to speak, but Arthur really didn’t know what to say. He was never prepared for a conversation like _this_ whilst Prince!

“I-” Arthur stuttered, leaning back in his seat as Geraldus stood up in his seat and screeched about impropriety once more. Lady Joanna stood up and shouted right back, and then everyone started shouting something and Ygraine sighed in disappointment, hiding her face in her hands. 

“Who cares if the boy likes it up the ass!” Joanna yelled, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Dear _gods,_ Jo!”

“What?!”

“Oh, Heavens above, PLEASE let me pass on already! I can’t stand you people!” Geraldus screeched, stomping away from the table.

_“What?_ Come on, you know you love us, Geraldus!” Andruche yelled to him. Geraldus kept stomping away, shoving his way through a crowd of singers. 

“I need details, Arthur! Come on, out with it!” Joanna turned her attention back to him and Arthur blanched, gripping the edges of his seat. This was honestly worse than _any_ of the council meetings he’d had while still… alive… (Well that was probably one of the weirdest thoughts he’d had so far.)

“Heloise! Sit down, you’ll hurt yourself!” Tristram shouted in alarm, moving to help an elderly lady back into her chair.

“Shut up, Chris-or-whatever-your-name-is! I’m perfectly fine, I just gotta-” Heloise grunted, sitting back down. “Where’s that worthless tramp? Geraldus!”

“He- er- left, my Lady!” a young boy shouted in her ear, who was standing by her side and looked very bored. 

“What was that you said?!” she screeched.

“YOUR HUSBAND LEFT THE TABLE!” the boy screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Ho! Why did you not say so?” Heloise replied. The boy looked like he wanted to smack his face into the stone chair. 

Everyone’s voices layered on top of another’s until it was all just an incoherent mess and Arthur _really_ wished that he couldn’t hear the things Joanna was spouting-

“ENOUGH!” Arthur shouted, quite out of breath, his face flushed a red hue due to the… very _indecent_ questions Joanna kept asking him. Everyone stopped and turned to him (except, Heloise, who had not heard him). “What is the _meaning_ of this? Is this how it is every day?”

“Urm- Yes, my King,” Andruche replied.

“Stop sucking up to him, brother,” Tristram muttered, nudging Andruche with his elbow. 

“I am not sucking up to him, brother!” Andruche whispered back.

Arthur slumped back into his chair when they started yelling again. Ygraine sympathetically patted his hand. Was he seriously going to have to deal with _this_ for who-knows-how-long?

In the end, Arthur only ended up meeting Joanna, Geraldus (sort of), Heloise (sort of), the boy (his name was Peter and he was Arthur’s distant cousin who drowned), Tristram, Igraine, and Andruche. He didn’t think he could really handle meeting the rest of them at this point, he was so exhausted from the yelling and- dear _gods,_ the number of innuendoes Joanna dropped was frankly alarming. 

He would be staying with his mother in the meantime in one of the bigger houses. They were not normal houses, more like towers of clumped pods stacked on top of each other. The glowing pods were rooms, and they clumped together to form said towers. The pathways to get to the pods were long and narrow, winding and basically a constructional disaster, but everyone seemed to be used to walking on them. It’s not like they could die twice, right? Right.

His mother led him up to the top of one of the towers and pressed on one of the pods, prompting it to open and reveal the large cavity inside. Ushering Arthur inside, she closed the pod behind them and-

Arthur gaped.

“Mother, I can not stay here!” he shrieked, shielding his eyes from the women (some looking to also be mothers) who did not seem to mind his presence as they walked around in clothing only proper for nightwear. 

“I am afraid there is nowhere else for you to stay until they get your living quarters prepared,” Ygraine explained, barely hiding her laughter from him. 

“This isn’t- I can’t just-”

“My friends don’t mind, do they? I have spoken to them already, and they know you would not try anything with them, Arthur, you are too noble for such a thing.” Ygraine assured as she greeted some of the women in the room. One of the mothers was nursing a small baby, looking just as exhausted as one would expect. Did she have to take care of the baby forever? Did they even age here? Gods, this place was too confusing, why couldn’t he just stay with Merlin in the land of the living or something? 

“I still don’t think I should-”

“Come now, my King, we don’t mind.” sighed the nursing mother, patting her babe on the back as it burped.

“Er- well-”

“We’ve even prepared a bed for you!” a lady grinned, pointing at a very neatly-made, ghostly-looking bed in the corner. 

“If you’re sure there’s no other option-”

“It is only temporary, Arthur. After all, it takes a while to place you because there are so many people who haven’t passed on yet. Would you like a cake? I quite like them.” Ygraine said as she approached a jar, popping open the lid and reaching in to grab one of the ambrosia. 

“Ygraine, you sugar fiend!” one of the girls laughed. Ygraine gently pinched her ghostly cheek with clear fondness. 

As Arthur awkwardly stood at the entrance, not quite sure what to do, the ladies in the room all continued on with their duties as if he weren’t even there. The nursing mother was now attempting to rock her baby to sleep (even though the babe had other plans), his mother was talking to the girl still, someone seemed to be discreetly-yet-not-so-discreetly staring at him while she sewed, and another trio of ladies were playing some sort of game with pebbles. 

“Should I-?” Arthur trailed off, looking at his dirty boots. It would be rude to dirty their living quarters, wouldn’t it?

“Of course! Make yourself comfortable. Meredith, stop staring at him, that’s weird!” 

Arthur turned to see the sewing girl, Meredith, quickly look away with a blush. Arthur cleared his throat, feeling very out of his element, and bent down to take off his boots. As he slipped them off, carefully placing them in the corner and out of the way, he realised he was still wearing his heavy armour, chainmail, as well as his cape. Of course, he knew how to take them off himself, but he usually made Merlin do it. So, naturally, he was a bit out of practice but he tried not to make too much of a fuss. He didn’t really want any more attention than was already given to him. As he fiddled with the arm parts with frustration, he felt a presence in front of him and jolted when Meredith’s thin fingers touched his own.

“Let me help you, sire,” she whispered. Arthur could only stare at her bouncing brown curls as she helped him take his armour off, trying to ignore her lingering touches. He really shouldn’t indulge her like this, but the words seemed caught in his throat. Gods, this felt so wrong, but he was so overwhelmed by all the change and he didn’t know what to do.

“Thank you,” he choked out when she finished and she handed him his armour, all wrapped up in his cape. He took the bundle over to his designated bed, ignoring her continued staring, and gently placed his armour underneath and out of sight. With a sense of helplessness, he sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall. 

What could he do? He was absolutely nothing here. There was no purpose other than to wait. How did people deal with this kind of situation? He did not matter to anyone here, did he? All he had to do was wait, wait, wait for something he didn’t even know was going to happen. To wait for Merlin, to wait to see his face again, to wait to see his friends die and come to this place with him, to wait for Guinevere, to-

Arthur felt his mother sit down next to him and she handed him a small cake like an offering, which he begrudgingly took. When he didn’t move to take a bite, she nudged him and said:

“You’ll like it. The flavour changes for each person to match what they like most.” 

“What does yours taste like?” Arthur asked absently. 

“Lemon,”

Sighing in defeat, he brought the ambrosia up to his lips and took a small bite, feeling the soft, sweet flavour of chocolate melting on his tongue, and was surprised to find tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Chocolate reminded him of his birthday, but also of his father who thought that giving him chocolate would make him forget the cruel things he said to him. It reminded him of the first time Merlin saved his life, pushing him out of the way of a knife in the nick of time. Of the celebratory season, of his and Guinevere’s first date, of the time he realised he’d fallen for Merlin, of Morgana-

For the first time in a long time, Arthur hid his face in his hands and cried, uncaring of the eyes trained on him as his mother rubbed his shoulders and sang a soothing lullaby. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *According to medievalists.net, ‘sard’ was the medieval version of ‘fuck’ as fuck did not technically exist yet. (Fornification Under Consent of the King was created in the 15th century I believe.)
> 
> *Ambrosia is food for the gods to keep them immortal. I don’t know, I thought it was cool to include it in Avalon as well.


	2. Morgana Pendragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets the druids, specifically the ones that specialise in healing. They have someone he knows amongst them.

Arthur woke up on top of the sheets, drowsy from a deep sleep. He wasn’t sure at first what exactly had woken him up, but then he heard the faint sobbing that rung through his ears. He shot up, looking around for the source, but no matter how much he turned his head, the crying didn’t grow louder or quieter. Was he going mad already? 

“Sire! You’re awake!” Meredith exclaimed with excitement, not seeming to notice his alarmed look. “I was thinking I could show you around the Lake, seeing as you’ve not- where are you going?”

“I have to go,” he replied absently as he exited the room. He hurried down the winding pathways, barely managing not to fall off or push off anyone else. As he made his way down, the crying seemed to get louder and fainter at the same time. Who was that? Where were they? He was going mad. There was no other explanation. People didn’t normally hear voices in their heads, did they? 

“Arthur!” Ygraine shouted in surprise once he caught her eye and ran towards her. “Where are you going, love?”

“Mother, please, tell me you can hear it.” Arthur pleaded, grabbing her by the shoulders. He must have looked a bit wild, judging by how concerned she appeared.

“Hear what, dear?”

“The- the crying. Am I losing my head, mother?” Arthur jumped when he heard another wail, spinning around to try and detect the source. No matter how much he turned, the noises were of constant volume. So it was inside his head, then. 

“Crying, you say?” Ygraine asked thoughtfully. “Come with me. Let us talk with the druids. They might know of your condition.” 

Ygraine dragged him through crowds of pale ghosts. She was surprisingly quick and sometimes Arthur struggled to keep up with her, her thin frame giving her an advantage because she could simply slip between small spaces while Arthur had to shoulder his way through groups of people. 

Eventually, they reached another hill surrounded by stones, all bearing marks of the Old Religion. Druids sat in circles, some of them with their eyes closed as they meditated. Others just cheerfully chatted with each other, their hands waving as they created beautiful images of light to go along with their stories. Children were playing with sticks and charging at each other like warriors. When they approached, the druids greeted Ygraine as if she were an old friend. Perhaps she was. 

The druids did not receive him quite as warmly and he could not blame them for that. But if they could accept his mother as a friend, maybe one day they could accept him. He wasn’t his father, after all, but he also hadn’t enough time whilst alive to… go about accepting magic in his kingdom. (Yes, that’s right, _his_ kingdom, not his father’s.) If only Merlin had told him about his magic sooner… But no, this wasn’t his fault. Arthur shouldn’t have relied too much on other people’s opinions to shape his own. He should have sought out the peaceful druids and asked them about it, rather than focusing on the evil magic that plagued his life. There are always at least two sides of an argument. 

Ygraine helped him ascend to the hill where, in the middle, stood an ordinary-looking druid. However, going by how reverently his people looked at him, Arthur guessed he was an important man. 

“Ygraine de Bois,” the old druid greeted. He gently grabbed her by the wrist and planted a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. She smiled.

“Lochru,”

Lochru nodded and turned toward Arthur with an indifferent expression. The druids around them all turned to him, eyes guarded and trying to see if he was a threat in any way. 

“Arthur Pendragon.” he greeted.

“Arthur, this is Lochru,” Ygraine introduced, “He is a great prophet. He may be able to help you.”

“Sir,” Arthur replied formally, not even bothering to ask how the man knew his name. Druids always seemed to know everything about him, even though he didn’t really know how. Arthur tried not to flinch as another wail rang through his skull. 

“Lochru is fine.” the man assured. 

“I never would have expected to meet you here, Arthur Pendragon.” Lochru said, “Although, I think we should skip over formalities for now. You hear someone else inside your mind, do you not?”

Arthur tried to ignore the crying, even as it grew in volume. “That is correct.”

“Do you not recognize the voice?”

Arthur paused, ready to say no, but for some reason something wasn’t allowing him to. It was as if he already knew that it was a lie, even though he couldn’t place the voice. 

“I see,” Lochru contemplated. “Such a bond is rare if I might say.” 

“Bond?” Arthur asked.

“Indeed. The voice you are hearing is that of your soulmate. He is distressed, is he not?”

“... Merlin…? But I thought soulmates were-”

“A legend. No, they are not, but they are quite rare.” Lochru looked him directly in the eyes, “His crying distresses you.”

Arthur didn’t know what to reply to that, but Lochru seemed to know what his answer was. 

“Your mother brought you to the right place. The druids on this hill specialize in healing. Come, we can teach you how to control the bond. It will be hard, but if we do this correctly, you might be able to communicate with Emrys.”

A hush went over the hill, everyone staring at him as Lochru led him over to another group of druids. Nearby, there was a circle surrounding someone who was groaning in pain, but Arthur couldn’t see who they were. Lochru approached a druid and whispered something in his ear. The druid nodded and gestured for Arthur to sit on a rock across from him. 

When Arthur did so, he introduced himself:

“Hello, Arthur. My name Giradin, I am here to help you.”

“Hello.” Arthur looked over at the circle of chanting druids next to them, “Who is that they’re surrounding?” Arthur asked.

“It need not concern yourself. You will meet soon, but not yet.” Giradin replied calmly. “Let us start with a few breathing exercises. Whilst you do this, do not ignore the voice in your mind, but rather welcome it.”

Thinking this was rather stupid, Arthur followed Giradin’s instructions, breathing in when instructed and relaxing his shoulders when prompted. Giradin suggested he close his eyes to help him visualize his and Merlin’s bond, which he also did reluctantly.

“Your soulmate is in pain,” Giradin said graciously. “The bond is injured due to your absence. It is your job to heal it.”

“How do I do that?” Arthur asked, his eyes still closed. 

“I understand you have not practised this branch of magic before, but as you are magic-born, it should come easy to you.”

“I’m what?” 

“Breathe, Arthur Pendragon. Visualize your bond.” was all Giradin said, to Arthur’s slight frustration.

“I hope this isn’t just wasting my time,” Arthur grumbled. He could almost feel Giradin’s serene smile this time. 

“I promise you it will not. Now, focus.” 

They did this for several hours (or, it seemed like hours). Arthur didn’t even know if they had made any progress in the end, but Merlin’s crying wasn’t crowding his mind any longer. It was fainter, but not gone completely. Giradin instructed him to return whenever he wished to continue and Arthur thanked him, standing up to go find his mother. 

Ygraine was playing with the druid children when Arthur approached. There was a glowing magical flower tucked behind her ear and she was telling a story to them, who listened eagerly, soaking up her words like sponges. Arthur didn’t have the heart to interrupt, so he watched as she regaled a tale of one of Arthur’s adventures. 

Maybe his mother had been looking after him all along. Vaguely, Arthur remembered himself saying that he thought he had a guardian angel. Maybe his mother was that angel? Didn’t Merlin say he had saved his life countless times? Arthur wished he could know just how much his soulmate had put himself in harm's way for him. 

His mind turned back to Merlin and their bond. It seemed not even death could separate them in the end. But how much longer did he have to wait to see him again? Giradin said that maybe one day, once he’d mastered their bond, he could speak to Merlin beyond the grave. But as their situation was so rare, it was hard to tell if he could. (But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to be true.)

He was then reminded of his thoughts in his last moments, mourning the fact he could not have given Guinevere his whole heart as he had promised. He hoped she would find happiness. Maybe she already had, but he had no way of knowing. 

“Arthur! There you are.” his mother called, drawing him out of his thoughts. Ygraine smiled, tickling one of the children just to hear her laugh. The girl hugged Ygraine and went back to play with her friends. 

“They love you,” Arthur said. Ygraine gave him a happy, infectious smile, one that warmed his stilled heart.

“You think so?”

“Of course. You’re great with children, mother.”

“Thank you,” she grinned, “Oh! I think it’s almost time to meet up with the family again.”

Arthur groaned. Ygraine laughed at him.

* * *

There was nothing left to do. All he could do was wait. But for what? 

He didn’t leave him. He couldn’t leave the Lake. So he waited.

He was reminded of how much of this was his fault and he couldn’t stop himself from crying. How pathetic was he to cling onto a hope that one day Arthur might return? He had no proof of this other than a prophecy. (Prophecies have always led him astray.)

Guinevere had sent a search party out for him. He should return to Camelot. They were starting to worry. He didn’t think it was safe to return. His magic was uncontrollable ever since Arthur left. It reminded him of when Morgana had seen Morgause unconscious on the floor, all but dead. How destructive her magic became as she screamed in agony, destroying the very walls of the castle and ripping everything apart. 

If the monster always dies in the end, why was he still alive? He had messed up so many times. He had hurt so many people. And yet, whenever he cried, his tears didn’t mar the ground, but rather new life grew around him until he was sitting miserably in a field of flowers. A field of flowers that marked the grave of the Once and Future King. Of Merlin’s best friend. ‘Best friend’ didn’t even seem to cover how _much_ he felt for Arthur. 

Sometimes, he thought he could hear Arthur’s voice. It was only snippets of conversation, but it kept him sane. Somewhat. He knew he was only imagining his voice. Arthur was dead and he couldn’t- he couldn’t-

Merlin keeled over and wept, his eyes puffy and his head starting to pound from dehydration as his tears dripped onto soft petals and blades of grass. But he didn’t move from his spot. He could not leave Arthur, even in death.

* * *

“Arthur, my boy!” Tristram greeted. “How are you?”

“You last saw me not too long ago, grandfather,” Arthur said. 

Merlin’s crying seemed to have subsided for now, but who knows how much longer it would take until he spiralled downward again. (Another reason why Arthur was determined to continue his lessons with Giradin; if he could talk to Merlin, maybe he could ease his suffering. One could only hope, however; Merlin had lost so much already, he might just accidentally cause him more pain.)

They were meeting on the same hill as yesterday, the one with the long stone table. Heloise, the boy Peter, Tristram, Igraine, and Andruche had already seemed to arrive. Geraldus was absent as well as Lady Joanna and the other five people Arthur had not yet had the… pleasure of meeting.

“Where is everyone else?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, not all of us can attend the family meetings,” Tristram explained apologetically. “Joanna is off gambling on this day with the rest of the family and no one has seen Geraldus for a while. He might have finally passed on.”

“Oh... and what exactly do we speak of in these meetings?” 

“Just anything! It is important we keep the family together, especially after how much it has split.” Andruche cut in.

“Split?” Arthur inquired. 

“Well, yes. We do try to get on, but after… the events that have taken place over the years, we have been pushed apart. Our side of the family is in conflict with your father’s side, mainly, but there are some other disputes between us that we try to resolve.”

“Speaking of disputes,” Tristram growled, “Andruche, you still haven’t returned my belt.”

“Oh?” Andruche said innocently, “Is it wasn’t me, brother! Whyever would I take your precious belt, brother?”

“You trickster!” Tristram bellowed, darting towards him. Andruche laughed and sprung away, and they chased each away from the table. 

“They are still such boys at heart.” Igraine sighed, fanning herself, although Arthur was sure she didn’t need it. 

Arthur severely wished he hadn’t studied his family’s history as a boy, no matter how much he was forced to. 

Arthur met with Giradin mostly every day, determined to learn how to speak with Merlin beyond the grave. Or, well, Lake in this case. They were making steady progress and, gradually, Merlin’s crying transformed into a soft whisper of a sound, easily ignorable if Merlin’s anguish became too much for Arthur to bear listening to. 

One day, Giradin was instructing him on attempting to send out a message, just to see if he could already. As their bond was apparently much stronger than anything the druids had ever seen, Giradin was making sure to tread carefully and thoroughly in their shared exploration. It was rather enlightening, now that Arthur thought of it. 

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on saying something to Merlin. But what would he even say? A simple ‘hello’ seemed… unsatisfactory, especially after all they’ve been through. 

_“I’m so sorry, Arthur, I’m so sorry-”_ Merlin sobbed. Arthur steadily deflated at the sound, a sense of discouragement settling around him.

 _I am trying, I’m trying, Merlin,_ Arthur thought desperately, _But nothing seems to be reaching you. Maybe this was a lost cause. But I couldn’t just listen to your sorrow and-_

 _“Arthur?”_ Merlin suddenly said, cautiously. _“Is… Are you… no, I’m probably just going mad.”_

Arthur shot up, eyes snapping open. 

_Merlin? Can you hear me?,_ he thought.

 _“Yes,”_ Merlin replied hoarsely, _“I can hear you, I don’t know what that says about my sanity, though.”_

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed in relief, flushing slightly when he realised Giradin was staring at him. Giradin gave him a proud smile and stood up, walking away to give him some privacy. Some of the druids had jolted, some with concern, but he blocked them out as Merlin spoke again:

 _“What is it?”_ Merlin sounded worried. _“What’s happened, sire?”_

Arthur shifted with excitement, ignoring the knowing looks some were shooting at him. Arthur’s thoughts were frantic in his reply, words stumbling over each other, but he knew Merlin would get the gist of what he was saying. 

_No, everything’s fine I- I- just have been- you- I’ve been trying to reach you for I don’t know how long now and finally I can talk to you, Merlin, finally, finally-_

_“Wh… What do you mean? Where are you, Arthur, I can’t see you?”_

_Oh, I- um. I’m… in the Lake. With my mother. Gods, there are so many things I want to tell you-_

_“A-Arthur,”_ Merlin interrupted, his voice shaking, _“You’re not real. You’re not here. You’re just a voice in my head.”_

Arthur was about to dispute that but realised Merlin was technically right. But they were communicating! That was the first step, wasn’t it? 

_I am here, Merlin. I know you have no reason to believe me, but trust me._

_“I will always trust you.”_

They were silent for a few moments. Arthur didn’t know what to say and he was rapidly becoming aware of his last words to Merlin, which were surely fresh in Merlin’s mind. Did Merlin wish for clarification? Arthur’s feelings were genuine, of course. Even if it took… dying to make him say it. Alright, when he put it that way-

 _“Arthur, I can still hear you,”_ Merlin whispered softly. Arthur’s jaw clenched and his mind went blank in humiliation as he tried to rectify his mistake. 

_Er- what I mean to say, Merlin, is- well, but I’m not sure if you would- and you’ll probably think it best if we-_

_“You meant it?”_ Merlin interrupted again. His tone was unbearably soft and Arthur had _no_ training _whatsoever_ for this kind of situation, what the Hell was he supposed to say-

 _“Yes or no, Arthur, it really is that simple.”_ Merlin snorted, the sound coming out raspy as if he hadn’t had to the joy of laughing in a long time. 

_Yes. It is true. I love you. I love you with… with my very soul, Merlin._

It felt wrong to say ‘with all my heart’. It is what Arthur had told Guinevere when they married, and the sentiment she returned. It felt wrong to use it with Merlin because it wasn’t entirely true. Arthur needed Merlin like he needed to breathe, and Arthur didn’t even need to breathe anymore! 

Wait. Gods, Merlin could hear these thoughts, too.

Arthur started to worry when Merlin didn’t say anything for a long time. He tried calling out to him, but Merlin never replied. He couldn’t even hear his breathing anymore.

_Merlin? Merlin?! Where are you?_

Merlin did not respond.

“Giradin!” Arthur exclaimed, springing up and searching for his tutor. He spotted him in the circle nearby, the one that was always surrounding a person Arthur couldn’t see. 

“Giradin!” he cried as he approached. Giradin saw his worried expression and smiled calmly, removing himself from the circle. The other druids shuffled slightly to close the gap he made. 

“Yes, Arthur Pendragon?”

“I cannot hear him any longer. Has something happened to him?”

Giradin looked thoughtful. “You hear nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” Arthur confirmed. “What does it mean? Is Merlin alright?”

“I believe Emrys is fine. You may ask Lochru if you like, but I believe this silence is of another cause. What were you speaking of before the silence, may I ask?”

“I-” Arthur swallowed. Did he really want to tell Giradin he had confessed his feelings for the second time? How embarrassing.

“You need not give specifics, Arthur. Was it something of great personal importance? Something that involves a substantial amount of emotion?”

“Er- yes,”

“Then it is possible that the connection has faltered for a while.”

“Why?”

“Oh, possibly for a multitude of reasons. Your soulmate could be troubled by these personal things you have shared with him. He could also be confused, or maybe very happy. We do not know how he feels. But perhaps your conversation has given him some things he needs to think through before you converse further.” 

Arthur’s heart sank. They had barely even begun a conversation and now he had to wait again to talk to his… his soulmate. What did soulmate even mean, really? Never mind, he’d ask later.

His attention was grabbed by the sudden whispering that spread through the hill. There was a low muttering of a druid telling someone not to do something, that she wasn’t strong enough yet, but she obviously didn’t listen as the whispers grew louder. Arthur turned to see…

“Brother,” she whispered. The word seemed to take a lot of energy to say. She was being held up by a druid, who took most of her weight without question. 

“Morgana.” Arthur breathed out in shock. 

* * *

Merlin was incredibly conflicted at Arthur’s confession, but once he realised Arthur could not hear him anymore he started shouting his name in panic. He could hear Arthur. He could hear everything. But Arthur couldn’t hear him. 

Who was Giradin? Perhaps Merlin could look in the libra- Oh. 

Merlin looked around him. There were flowers for what seemed like miles, floating gently in the cool breeze. Merlin shivered at the cold, drawing his coat tighter around him. He should go to Camelot and see what he could find. He should. But Merlin couldn’t make himself stand and leave the Lake. It was as if he were bound to it. He didn’t want to leave in the first place. How could he go to Camelot and bring Arthur with him at the same time?

He should send a message to Gwen. She must be worried. She deserved to know where he was. 

_“O drakon!”_ Merlin cried, but then stopped when he heard a sharp snap of a twig. 

“I am here, young warlock,” Kilgharrah said, emerging from the trees. He looked about as tired as Merlin felt. Merlin indulged his guilt for a moment, realising Kilgharrah might not be up to the journey. He could find another way. He could use the spell that summons ravens, but he was fairly certain they disliked him. 

“I need to send a message to Gwen so she knows where I am. What’s wrong?” Merlin asked when he saw Kilgharrah’s expression.

“Merlin, I do not think I have the will to fly today,” he replied in a deep rumble. Merlin nodded in understanding. He didn’t want to force Kilgharrah, not when they were both so worn down. 

“Do you know where the patrol is? Are they still looking for me?”

“I have seen them many times over the past few days. They should not be too hard to find. I will be back soon.” Kilgharrah walked back into the trees and disappeared.

Merlin waited, staring into the water. He could barely hear Arthur now. He didn’t even know if what he was hearing was real and not just a figment of his imagination. However, Merlin could do little else other than watch contemplatively as the water rippled and the trees rustled. 

Soon he heard the sound of hooves beating against the ground as the knights approached. Merlin didn’t turn towards them, knowing he wouldn’t know any of their faces. Everyone he knew was dead except for a few. But he could wait for that is all he knew how to do. 

* * *

It was like meeting her all over again. Arthur was so used to seeing the hatred flaring in her eyes that he didn’t know how to react when all he saw was deep fatigue and resignation. She was not the Morgana he knew before she had become evil. That Morgana was full of fire, doing what she thought was right and damning the consequences. The evil Morgana was manipulative, twisted, and did horrible things to get what she wanted. This Morgana was not like any other. She reminded him of one of his knights, when a patrol was attacked and they had to watch as their friends got slaughtered before their eyes, leaving them to live with the horrors they had seen. She reminded him of his father before he had died, dead tired and realising the terrible things he had done during his fury and hatred for magical folk. Her eyes were haunted in a way that made chills shoot up his spine. 

Arthur pitied Morgana. He did not even know the extent of what had happened to her whilst she was still alive. He now wished he knew, if only to help her. He knew she didn’t deserve what happened to her. If anything, he had only made it worse. They had all pushed her away when she needed it most. 

“I know this doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry, Arthur.” Morgana croaked. There were tears in her eyes. “What I did- some of the things I did were inhumane and so wrong. I can remember all of them, every single one of their faces.”

“Whose?” Arthur whispered, trying not to break the sombre atmosphere.

“The people I k-killed. When I was Queen of Camelot, I ordered them to- to _shoot_ at the people, who had done nothing wrong. Who had done nothing but hate me for what I had done, and rightfully so.” Morgana sobbed. The druid holding her weight rubbed her hand down Morgana’s back, trying to soothe her. “I can’t believe I- I treated Gwen like that! Forcing her to endure the horrors in that room that I had endured. No one deserved to suffer in such a way. But I had been so desperate for a friend, to try and make her _see_ things as I did-”

“Morgana,” Arthur tried to interrupt, eyes wide with unshed tears. Morgana had been so great before. Now she was but an empty shell, haunted by her actions for eternity. 

“I was just so consumed by hatred and fear because I was born with magic and Uther hated magic. No one believed me when I said it was I who set my curtains on fire. I tried talking to Merlin, but he couldn’t help me very well because he was afraid, we were all afraid, and I thought I was going insane and I was so alone, Arthur. Uther is my father, but he would still have killed me if he had found out. You don’t know what it’s like living in a house constantly consumed by fear of being found out and being trapped in that hole for two years with hardly any-”

“Morgana, please.” Arthur choked out, steadying his sister by gently gripping her arm. Morgana tensed as if expecting him to strike her, and Arthur’s heart mourned for her as she continued on in a panic.

“-hardly any food or water and Aithusa was still growing, you didn’t see how much pain she was in, dragons need room to grow and-”

 _“Morgana,”_ Arthur interrupted firmly, but that didn’t stop him from shaking with sadness. Morgana looked at him with wide eyes, a vulnerability in them that he hadn’t seen in years.

They both waited for Arthur to say something and he closed his eyes, feeling a tear fall down his cheek. 

“We both know I cannot forgive you for the things you have done.” Arthur began. Morgana nodded like she expected nothing else, but that didn’t stop her from letting her silent tears fall. “Not yet, at least. You’ve… hurt so many. That cannot be forgiven easily. But… I think I- I think I am beginning to understand.” 

Morgana stared at him in disbelief, not exactly sure if she was hearing correctly. 

“We all… failed you, Morgana. I do not forgive myself for being so blind to what was happening under my very nose. But that is not an excuse for all the suffering you have created.”

“How do I fix it?” Morgana pleaded, “I want to help, I need to. It is my fault people have been hurt and I want to change it.”

“You cannot change the past, Morgana, but…” Arthur sighed, rubbing Morgana’s shoulder. “Many of the spirits cannot pass on due to… the unjust nature of their death.”

“How do I fix it?” Morgana asked earnestly.

“I do not know. But you- you must ask for their forgiveness. You must show that you are changed. You must put yourself before them and explain yourself. And then they will decide if you… if you are worth listening to. If you are worth forgiving.”

“I will do it. I will seek forgiveness forever if I must.” Morgana agreed, hesitantly grabbing Arthur by the shoulders. She probably expected him to back away. He did not. Morgana didn’t seem to know what to do, so Arthur stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She cried into his shoulder, using him to stand and support herself. 

It should have always been like this. He should have always been there for her. They all should have. 


	3. Mordred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin makes a hard decision. Arthur heals alongside Morgana and learns more about the Lake of Avalon and its people.

Merlin gave a slight smile when he saw the patrol return and Percival was there, alive and well. Perhaps not… well… but alive nonetheless.

“Merlin!” Percival had called in relief. “You alright?”

Merlin sensed his magic had probably warded off the place. He needed to be alone at the time and his magic responded in turn, not allowing anyone to find Avalon. But now he knew he was… going to be ready to return. Gwen needed him. Gaius needed him. But Arthur also needed him. That was where the problem lied. 

“You’re not getting rid of me yet, Percival,” Merlin replied hoarsely in an attempt at humour, trying to wipe away the dried tear tracks on his face. It worked; Percival gave a weak laugh, but Merlin could hear the weight of his sadness within it. 

Merlin rose finally from the field of flowers, then immediately fell over from how weak he was. It was honestly surprising that he was still alive, given that he had not eaten or hydrated in… weeks. Or more. Merlin gasped, his throat desperately dry and keeled over when a surge of great hunger overtook his body. Percival was with him in an instant, worriedly checking him over.

“Have you not taken care of yourself?” he asked, grabbing Merlin under the arms and hefting him up easily, throwing him over his shoulder. He carried him over to where the horses were, and there Merlin saw Sir Leon. Merlin laughed delightedly at the sight of him. 

“Water,” was all Merlin could say. Leon quickly grabbed his water-skin and threw it to Percival, who caught it and gave it to Merlin. Merlin desperately drank from it every last drop, and when there was no more, he dropped it and gasped, feeling almost completely remade. The water had tasted like the most exquisite thing, although it was tasteless. The coldness of it flowed through his veins and he was temporarily revived. 

He had not realised how close to death he was until now. 

“Take mine, I will go and refill,” Percival said, handing Merlin his own water-skin. He waited until Merlin had guzzled its contents and then took it and Leon’s to a clear stream nearby. 

“You look like death, Merlin.” Leon rasped, sliding off his horse to grab Merlin in a hug. Merlin, no matter how weak he was, clung back as hard as he could, trying to draw strength from the knight as he was not confident in his own. 

“I tried,” Merlin sobbed again into Leon’s shoulder, not able to keep the tears at bay for much longer. “I tried to save him, but I failed-”

“No one could have done better,” Leon said, not even blinking an eye at Merlin’s emotional state as he patted him on the shoulder. “Come, you must eat before you fade away.”

“Can we- I need to-” Merlin looked over at the Lake. Leon looked, too, and nodded.

“We will camp here for the night. And then in the morning, we will return to Camelot.”

“No!” Merlin cried, eyes wide. “I cannot leave him!”

“Merlin,” Leon pleaded solemnly, “Please. Do not make us leave you here. We… _I…_ have lost too many friends to bear losing another.” 

“I know I have to go back, but I also need to stay, and-” Merlin angrily pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I am not asking you to leave him forever, Merlin,” Leon reasoned. Merlin could hear the tiredness in his voice. “You can still visit him as often as you like. But- our Queen… She needs all the support she can get. We need you.”

Merlin looked up at Leon and was struck by the sorrow in his eyes. Merlin supposed he did make a pitiful sight. Merlin didn’t say anything, though. He needed guidance, but he didn’t want to bother Kilgharrah anymore. He had done enough for Merlin. The dragon needed to rest. Gaius could help him, but Gaius was in Camelot. 

“Woah!” Percival exclaimed when he returned, nearly dropping the waterskins. Merlin spun around to see his eyes on the grass below him and a small pit of dread welled up in Merlin’s stomach. Heart pounding, Merlin followed his eyes and watched as another flower grew beneath his feet. It was a small yellow one, poking its petals just above the blades of grass, but everyone had seen it appear before their eyes from one of Merlin’s tears. 

“I-” Merlin choked, stumbling away, “I’m sorry, I-”

“Merlin,” Leon breathed, “You’re… you’re a sorcerer.”

“Yes, I-”

“So Guinevere _was_ telling the truth.” Leon interrupted. 

“... What?” Merlin asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“She… she’s had a lot of time to think over the past couple of weeks. She managed to put two and two together and asked Gaius for confirmation. You were the sorcerer at Camlann that destroyed the Saxons?” 

“I- w-well-” Merlin stuttered, his brain completely shutting off at the acceptance in their eyes. Some of the other knights with them looked cautious of him, but they had not drawn their swords. Merlin could hardly believe it. 

“That is… you have done such a great service to Camelot, Merlin, you should be rewarded for it.” Leon continued. Percival was still standing there, staring at the flowers that made the field Merlin had been sitting on. 

“That’s not why I do it.” Merlin laughed, drying his tears in relief. 

Leon’s gaze was even more reverent at that.

“You are a humble man, Merlin.” 

Merlin said nothing. Glancing back at the Lake, Merlin knew what the right thing to do was. However, he didn’t know if he had the strength to take that path. 

* * *

Arthur was waiting for Merlin, trying to be patient. He knew _he_ had needed time when Merlin had told him of his magic, this should be no different. But he did not know how many days passed or how long it had been since he had heard Merlin’s voice. Arthur wished he could hear Merlin’s cries if anything, just to know he was still there. 

Arthur was sitting with Morgana in the circle now. They had thought his presence would be supremely beneficial to healing her mind. Arthur hadn’t protested. He had been relieved when she had finally died at Merlin’s hand because it meant the end of a war, but now she needed help, and Arthur would give it to her. 

He was just sad he could not see the aftermath of his victory. However, he was confident Guinevere would be able to create a fair and just kingdom in his absence. 

“The water reveals the true souls of mankind,” Arthur heard Giradin say, “It erases blindness due to emotion that many men carry in their hearts - love, fear, anger; it all can affect your actions for better or for worse. The water reveals a person’s true nature, the one hidden underneath. Sometimes that entails the creation of an entirely new personality. Sometimes the person remains the same.” 

Arthur thought this odd. Really, he did. Arthur had not felt much change in himself compared to Morgana. She had been… a whole other person. It was enlightening to see that this was the side of her underneath the entire time. That the living Morgana had been confused, paranoid at every turn. This Morgana would say one thing and then contradict herself in the next sentence, confused about what she really wanted. But her guilt remained apparent. Arthur was glad to see this human side of her again. Gone were the days of cold-blooded murder and torture. Arthur was happy for her.

Arthur wondered what his father had turned out to be. If his mother really resented him and if he was still the person he had seen when he blew the horn… Arthur wanted no part in it. But a part of Arthur still wished Uther had found his peace, that he was no longer angry or cruel. He didn’t know how much the water helped some people… 

Arthur knew these wishes would probably never come to pass. He knew from Gaius that even before the Great Purge, his father had been a ruthless king, no matter how happy he was with Ygraine. He hadn’t let his happiness bleed into his reign; just the absence of it afterwards. 

And then there was Mordred. Arthur knew he had turned him against him. That was his own fault. But he also knew Mordred had been blinded by love. If that blindness was gone now due to the water… Arthur wondered if he could see he was in the wrong. Truly, Arthur still knew he had had no choice other than to kill Kara. She had killed countless men under the guise of freedom. She had been just as prejudiced as if his father had been. And, he had given her the option to repent, but she had not taken it. He couldn’t have saved her from her fate, even if he didn’t want to hurt Mordred. Her actions had condemned her. Arthur hoped Mordred saw that now. For he really had liked Mordred; they had been close friends. He had trusted Mordred. Maybe not as much as he trusted Merlin… but even Merlin had been cautious of Mordred… 

All this talk of prophecies and destiny. Merlin must have known Mordred would turn on him eventually. Why didn’t he tell him? Would he have listened?

 _Merlin,_ he thought, just to test if Merlin would respond. He did not. _I do not know if you can hear me. I miss your voice._

_Morgana has changed. She is no longer like she was before. Do you know where her dragon is? She is very worried about Aithusa. She tells me she was her only friend when she was alive. She wants to make sure she is well, although she knows that you cannot… that you might not even be able to hear me._

_I have met my mother as I have mentioned. The druid children love her. I have also met my mother’s side of the family or at least some of them. You should be grateful you do not have to suffer at the hands of Lady Joanna and her crude jokes._

_I have not seen my father and I am not sure if I want to. My mother hates his guts. The family members I have met also hate him for the things he did. I wish I hadn’t been so blind when I was alive. I wish… I wish things could have been different. I wish we had more time together for it is lonely without you. I am surrounded by millions of people, and yet I feel lonelier than ever._

_I miss your smile. You would smile so brightly, even when you were hurting. I wish you didn’t have to pretend anymore. I hope you don’t have to pretend anymore. I want you to… always be you, Merlin. Please._

_I miss the way you’d laugh at me in front of my subjects. Any other king would have been humiliated, I know. But I like how it made me feel normal. Approachable. And that’s another thing; I miss the way you’d treat me like I was your friend. I hope we… I hope we were in some ways. Even though I… treated you horribly. I am sorry about that. I wish I could…_

Arthur sighed. _But what I wish doesn’t matter. I hope you’re taking care of yourself, though. Please take care of yourself. For me, at the very least. Please, Merlin. I hate to hear you suffer so._

“Arthur, are you listening?” Giradin asked. Arthur shook himself free from his thoughts and looked up at his instructor.

“Sorry, could you repeat what you just said? My mind has been wandering.” Arthur apologised lamely. 

Giradin gave him a reprimanding look, one that honestly made Arthur feel like a foolish schoolboy again, then seamlessly continued:

“This is important, it would do well for you to listen, Arthur Pendragon. There is something wrong with the gates of Avalon.”

“What? What do you mean ‘wrong’?” Arthur demanded. Giradin gave him a look and Arthur groaned, trying to be patient. 

Lowering his voice, Giradin said, “It is said that the people of Avalon pass on after staying the same amount of time they were alive. However, the person who’s stayed longest in Avalon has been here for nearly five hundred years. She only lived for fifty-three years.”

“Are you saying that people can’t pass on? Has no one passed on for five hundred years?” Morgana asked.

“Not exactly,” Giradin looked around at the circle of druids, who nodded for him to continue with grim expressions, “People still pass on, but they rarely do. Most people do not think oddly of this, but look around you, Pendragons. What do you see?”

Arthur looked. All he could see for miles were endless groups of people, all conversing in the increasingly crowded areas. Perhaps it should’ve been frightening to see so many ghosts in one place, but Arthur had slowly gotten used to seeing nothing but blue people (?) everywhere. (Honestly, couldn’t they spice things up a bit? Introduce a little red to the spectrum? All the shades of blue made everything so… cold-looking. And Arthur liked red. Merlin liked red.)

“They’re gathering all the dead people into one place?” Morgana guessed, her face pinched in concern. 

Giradin didn’t look all too troubled on the outside, but Arthur could see with the way his eyes darted around that he was afraid of being heard.

“Who is ‘they’?” Arthur asked Morgana. She shrugged.

“‘They’ could possibly be, and quite frankly _are,_ the Sidhe.”

“And who exactly is that? I’ve never heard the name before.”

“The Sidhe are… ancient and powerful magical beings,” Morgana explained, “They have many great abilities and are practically immortal, having the ability to live for thousands of years.”

“That is correct,” Giradin confirmed, “The Sidhe are very greedy and cruel creatures, however. They lust for power and wealth, somewhat like trolls, to be honest. But their tactics are far subtler. They are very patient.”

Arthur nodded, trying not to remember the time he literally had a troll for a stepmother. Oh gods, the smell had been _horrid-_

“Do they mean to create an army of the dead?” Arthur asked quickly to dispel the memory. If they were planning on massing an army to destroy Camelot, Arthur had to get involved. He’d worked so hard to keep Camelot thriving, had even died for it, he couldn’t bear to see it fall so soon.

“Yes and no. I fear there aren’t any clear answers as to why they’re cooping everyone up in here.”

“We’re like chickens,” Morgana snarled. “Just waiting until-”

“If they lust for power,” Arthur interrupted, trying to stem Morgana’s upcoming rage. “Perhaps… is there a way for them to collect magic from magical folk? Or some sort of power from people in general?”

Giradin considered this for a moment. “I am not entirely sure, actually, but I think it would be possible to collect magic from magical folk. I am not sure about non-magical people, but it would be easier to just keep everyone here rather than going through and singling everyone out. They are powerful, after all, far more powerful than I, so it could be done.”

“But not more powerful than… Emrys.” Morgana hesitated, and by the look in her eyes, she was remembering something from when she was alive. 

“Emrys is magic itself. He was born of the earth and is woven into the very fabric of the world. He is ever constant. The Sidhe would not be a match against him.” Giradin agreed.

Unfortunately, Arthur’s face decided to flush at the remembrance of the great power Merlin possessed. It was weird thinking about it; his soulmate was such a clumsy oaf sometimes. To think he could… he could destroy entire armies in a blink of an eye… He could make anyone do anything he wanted… 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Morgana smirking at him. It reminded him of what she was like before, all smug like she knew something he didn’t, which was apparently often. 

“Yes, Merlin is powerful, isn’t he, Giradin? Honestly, I don’t know how _Arthur_ could be the other half of his soul. You’re weak in comparison, aren’t you, Arthur?”

“Shut up, Morgana, I could beat him if I wanted to!” Arthur exclaimed indignantly. Morgana’s smirk grew wider.

 _Okay, fine, maybe not, but I’m certainly not admitting defeat, a Pendragon never backs down from a challenge,_ he thought.

“Sure, Arthur, if you say so. You know, I have heard stories about how he’s defeated the Sidhe before. This would be nothing, hm? I bet he could solve this problem in a week and not even break a sweat.”

Arthur scoffed, “You jest, Morgana.” 

“Yeah? You know what, I bet even _I_ could solve this quicker than you can, brother.” 

“You absolutely can _not!”_

“Really? Have proof? Are you man enough, Arthur?” Morgana mocked.

“Damn you, Morgana! What is it I have to do, Giradin?” Arthur scowled deeply. He knew he had been played like a fiddle when Morgana burst out into victorious laughter. 

Giradin was clearly deeply amused by this exchange. Well, damn him, too. 

* * *

Merlin ran a finger through the Lake’s water, staring out at the island in the middle. They were leaving for Camelot soon; they’d already had something to eat this morning, but Merlin was literally and metaphorically starving. He wanted to see Gaius again, and Gwen. Anyone else he’d met before. Even the blasted cook would be a welcome face, although he really, _really_ hated her. 

But he didn’t want to go just yet, even as he heard Leon ordering the knights to ready the horses. (Merlin would be riding on the same horse as Leon as they didn’t have an extra.) He could hear Arthur’s conversations still, even though Arthur didn’t seem to know that. Well, he could hear Arthur’s side of them anyway. Occasionally, Arthur would send him sort-of-letters through his thoughts and it made Merlin’s desire to stay even stronger. But he knew he had to go. Gwen needed him. (It didn’t really surprise him that she knew about his magic. She had always been a smart woman. She would be a good ruler, he was sure of that.)

Now that Camelot had won the fight against Morgana (and magic, but not really because Merlin was obviously still breathing), Guinevere would have the opportunity to… use it to her advantage. To keep the kingdom strong. Merlin hoped that didn’t entail the persecution of magic, but he didn’t know for sure. He didn’t really know Gwen’s standing on magic other than she had been accused of having it several times. 

His destiny was to serve Arthur. And even while he’s gone for the meantime, Merlin had every intention of following through with it anyway. Even if he couldn’t speak with Arthur for some reason… He had very strong suspicions that was because Merlin was ignoring the issue of Arthur’s feelings for him.

Yes, Merlin did love him. But was now the right time to start a relationship? (Merlin didn’t even know if the voice he was hearing was real.) Arthur was dead, they couldn’t exactly be together. They could only converse through their minds. That did sound rather mad, didn’t it? Talking with a dead person. If Arthur had been alive, it wouldn’t have been as odd since Merlin had done so multiple times with magical folk. (Although Arthur didn’t really have magic… or was this because he was magic-born? Merlin really needed to speak to him about that.)

But how could he leave Arthur and still converse with him? It’s not like he could take Arthur with him-

Wait. 

“Does anyone have a bottle I could borrow for the trip? A water skin? Anything?” Merlin called. Leon and Percival looked slightly puzzled by this, but Leon nodded at one of the knights, who threw his empty water skin at Merlin. Merlin fumbled with it, barely managing to catch it in time. 

“Thanks! Er, I promise you’ll get it back, but, uh, only when we get back to Camelot!” Merlin called, already rushing to the water. Merlin unstopped the water skin and dipped the opening into the water, filling it up to the brim. 

He could only hope that this would work. But he wouldn’t know until he left. 

_It’s now or never,_ he thought. 

* * *

“Mother, please,” Arthur begged. Ygraine only looked amused.

“Arthur, this is _your_ love life, not mine.”

“I’m not even- what? I’m not in love with her! Besides, I’m already- well, you- oh, be quiet.” Arthur grumbled. Ygraine laughed, patting his shoulder.

“Really, Arthur, you are confused by the simplest of situations. Just talk to her if her advances are making you uncomfortable.”

“But she’s so… young… I don’t really want to hurt her feelings. It’s not like she’s not a good person, I just-” 

Ygraine pushed him toward Meredith, who had been sneaking glances at him for a while now. “Don’t say that to me, say it to her, Arthur. Honestly, you’re so hopeless when it comes to love.”

“Mother, I- Hello, uh, Meredith.” Arthur stuttered when the girl suddenly appeared in front of him. She was really quiet when she wanted to be, it was sort of frightening. 

“Um, hello, sire!” she greeted earnestly, “I was- I was wondering if you wanted to walk around the Lake with me? Or-”

“Er- I, well, Meredith-”

Arthur desperately wished they could’ve had this conversation in another place rather than in front of all of his mother’s friends. Why haven't they found him another residence yet? It’s been so long! (Arthur was also getting tired of one of the young children pulling his hair. Didn’t she know that hurt??) 

“-or we could, um, do something at your leisure, or I could introduce you to some of my friends! Or-”

“Meredith, please listen to me.” Arthur interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulders. She blushed and apologized and Arthur _really_ didn’t want to have this conversation, although he _had_ turned down multiple girls before-

“Sorry, sire, what were you saying?”

“Look, I- well, I- I’m sorry, Meredith, but I- um, I have someone else in mind, is all.” Arthur forced himself to say. Her hurt expression made him wince.

“Oh, I- of course, you do, how silly of me, um, I- I’m sorry, I’ll just-”

“You- You do seem like a lovely girl, Meredith, but there- well, there has… always been someone.”

“Who is she?” Meredith asked, still sounding incredibly hurt. “Is it your wife? I mean to say, our Queen was- er, is a very nice woman, very beautiful, I-”

“I-” Arthur swallowed when he felt everyone’s eyes turn on him. His mother was snacking on ambrosia and Arthur sort of wanted to shake her by the shoulders because _that’s not helping, mother!_

“Or is it someone else?” Meredith’s eyes widened at his hesitation. Gods, she was a gossiper, too, wasn’t she? This was just fantastic.

“Truthfully? Yes, there is someone else. But I’d rather not, um-”

“Who is she? What’s she like? Is she another dead person? Could I meet her?” Meredith asked excitedly. “I’d like to meet her! How old is she? Is she-”

Arthur swallowed nervously. He was a King?? Why couldn’t he just-??? Ugh! “He is, um, not dead, sorry.”

Meredith gasped, “I have a friend like you! Or, um, goes that way! I could introduce you, you might become friends! Although he does seem sort of sad and he came down here recently, but he’s really nice! Although, he’s a real flirt, and-”

“Er- sure? I- I suppose that would be… okay.” Arthur really wanted this conversation to be over. Immediately. Maybe if he just agreed, she would leave him alone. Gods, wasn’t being dead supposed to be peaceful???

“Good! I’ll go introduce you, come on!” Meredith exclaimed excitedly, taking him by the hand and dragging him out of the room. Arthur sighed heavily in his mind.

_Merlin, the one time I actually need you to save me and you’re not even here._

“Gwaine??” Arthur exclaimed. 

What. (Yes, that is all he had to say about this. Okay, fine, why the Hell was Gwaine dead. No, he doesn’t deserve a question, just confusion. Wait, Gwaine liked men? Okay Arthur wasn’t actually that surprised at that, but still.) 

“Arthur?” Gwaine said, dropping whatever he was holding. (Arthur actually had no idea what it was. They didn’t have alcohol down here, did they? Oh, gods. Gwaine’s ambrosia. It would taste like alcohol. Damn him.) 

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Neither are you."

It got slightly awkward when Gwaine suddenly hugged him with one arm. Arthur awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and looked at Meredith in confusion. She just shrugged and left him. Traitor. 

“What are you doing down here? I thought you were back at Camelot?” Arthur asked, pulling away. Gwaine’s face crumpled in guilt. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur, I betrayed you.”

“What? No you didn’t.” Arthur protested.

“I went after Morgana. I was- ugh.”

“Angry?” Arthur guessed.

“Yeah. She pulled that snake thing out and- ugh.”

“She tortured you?” Arthur sighed. Sometimes he just wanted to go back to sleep forever. But then again, Merlin was still alive, so he probably shouldn’t do that. 

“Yeah.” 

“Not your fault.”

“Yeah, it was, mate. I shouldn’t have-”

“Honestly, Gwaine, I would have done the same thing. It’s not your fault. Let us move past it together. Besides, Merlin killed Morgana, so all’s fine.” Arthur said, patting Gwaine on the shoulder. “Anyway, does your ambrosia taste like mead?”

Gwaine laughed, relieved, “Yup! What’s yours?”

“Chocolate.”

“I thought it was going to be Mer-”

“Gwaine!”

“What? Merlin’s obviously your kink.”

 _“What?_ Is this you saying that mead is your kink? Actually, no, don’t answer that. I can’t believe I just said that- oh, gods, now I’m thinking about it. Stop it!” 

Gwaine snickered at his pain. Well, might as well damn him, too. 

Morgana was steadily improving. She didn’t break down as often, nor did she go on rages. She still did contradict herself, but it was understandable after… everything. She was still trying to figure out who she was, who she had become. It was admirable, in a way. You’d think that people wouldn’t change after death, that they would remain the same as they had in life, but Morgana was learning every day what it was like to be human again. 

They were conversing quietly in their circle, coming up with ideas to release the souls from this waiting place, when Arthur’s name was called out. Arthur sighed, rubbing his temple from pure habit, even though he hasn’t gotten a headache since he got down here. 

“Arthur Pendragon! I wish to speak with you…” the voice said, getting quieter and quieter towards the end until it was but a whisper as they trailed off. 

But Arthur knew that voice. He had heard it many times before. 

“Mordred,” Arthur said, not bothering to stand up from the circle. This was the man that had killed him, after all. But maybe the water was making it easier for him to forgive. Had he not learned from Morgana? Agravaine? All those who had betrayed him? And yet he could already feel the beginning of forgiveness grow in his heart for Mordred. 

A treacherous part of his mind whispered _Merlin,_ but he angrily pushed it aside. Merlin had not betrayed him. He _hadn’t._

“Arthur, I need to hear it from your own voice.” Mordred’s voice shook, with emotion or something else, Arthur didn’t know. Arthur looked at Morgana, who was staring not at Mordred, but at Arthur. Arthur couldn’t bear the deep sadness she held, looking away. But she pushed him anyway, towards Mordred, so Arthur slowly pulled himself up from the ground to face his ex-knight.

Mordred was not tearful. He held himself tall, like the proud knight he had been, but Arthur could see the confusion swirling in his eyes. 

“What is it you require of me, Mordred?” Arthur asked, feeling the guise of the King he had been slipping back on again. (Where was that facade earlier? Honestly, that had been just the worst. At least Gwaine seemed happier.) 

“Not here,” Mordred said, then turned and walked away from the hill. Arthur shared a glance with Morgana to reassure her of his safety before following him. 

Mordred seemed to know where he was going, at least, as he pushed his way through blue ghostly figures. Arthur didn’t have much to lose and it wasn’t like he could die twice (right?), so he followed after him, making sure not to stray too far behind. 

Their destination was a cave on the side of the Lake, secluded and far from civilization. The darkness should’ve swallowed them up, but Mordred glowed like any other ghost, just enough so that Arthur could see his face from a distance away. (Why did Arthur not glow? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to that. Merlin probably knew, he seemed to know random facts about things. They were occasionally useful. But that didn’t make him any less of a dollophead. Not going to say it’s your word, Merlin? Fine. You’re still a dollophead.)

Mordred cleared his throat, gathering Arthur’s attention again. 

“Arthur, I- We… we were friends. Weren’t we?” Mordred asked, uncertainly. 

This was certainly not the question Arthur was expecting. Honestly, he’d been expecting something about the girl Kara. He was more prepared to answer about Kara than this, actually. 

“Yes, we were friends, Mordred.” Arthur conceded. 

“Did you… you cared about me, didn’t you?” 

“Mordred, of course I did. You were one of my most trusted knights. In all ways but blood, we were brothers.”

“And would you have executed me if you had known I was a sorcerer?” Mordred asked, his voice shaking a little. 

Arthur’s mind spun at the news. “What?”

First Merlin and now Mordred? How had he… how had he not known of this? Who else had been a sorcerer and didn’t tell him?

 _I didn’t want to put you in the position,_ Merlin’s voice whispered in his mind. Was it the same with Mordred? 

“I honestly don’t know how you forgot about me so quickly. I am… I was the druid boy that Morgana saved. The one you asked the name of in the forest. You knew my name, and then you forgot it. Was I not important to you?” Mordred asked. 

“Mordred, I-” Arthur frowned, trying to get his thoughts in order, “I would not have executed you. I would not have executed you because you… have magic. More likely, I would have…”

“Removed my knighthood?”

Arthur dragged a hand down his face in frustration. “No, I would not have talked to you for a while because I thought you trusted me. I thought- I thought everyone trusted me like I trusted them, Mordred, but apparently, that was not always the case.” 

“Merlin trusted you.”

“I know. You did not trust me enough to tell me.”

“Merlin didn’t tell you.”

“Because he didn’t want me to have to decide between him and my father.” Arthur echoed Merlin’s words. Mordred sighed in defeat. 

“I would have told you.”

“When?”

“When magic was made free.”

“I made peace with the druids.” Arthur pointed out.

“But did you repeal the magic ban? Was magic ever anything but outlawed in Camelot, Arthur?”

Arthur went silent. Gods, why had he made so many mistakes, why hadn’t he realised-

“We were all waiting for a better time, Arthur,” Mordred whispered. “I thought- I thought if I joined Morgana, the time of magic would come quicker.”

“You were… right. But wrong.” Morgana interjected suddenly, walking into the cave on her own. Arthur didn’t even know she had followed them. He and Mordred both jumped at the unexpected intrusion, turning towards the last High Priestess. 

“My lady?” Mordred said, startled. 

“Mordred, the cause itself might have been noble, or at least the one you’re thinking of, but I was not.” Morgana replied, ignoring their shock in favour of her explanation, “But Fate has made it this way, there is no way we can change the past.” 

“Morgana, I-” Mordred started, but Morgana interrupted him.

“We were all part of the same game, Mordred. Arthur was part of it. You were. I was. Merlin _still_ is.” 

“You’re saying there was nothing we could have done?” Arthur said mournfully. They were destined for ruin from the start?

“Our story has been foretold. There was no escaping it, no matter how hard some of us tried.”

It was silent for a few moments as they all stared at each other, waiting for someone to say something. Eventually, Arthur opened up: 

“I hope…” Arthur swallowed, not used to voicing such things, “I hope Guinevere makes a better world.”

Morgana nodded. “Emrys will aid her. I hope she can do what we failed to.”

Mordred looked downtrodden. “I wish I was alive to see it.”

“I as well, Mordred,” Arthur muttered. For what could he do other than wish? “I as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess: I finally finished watching Merlin... so that's why there is an update so soon because I needed to heal my soul. I'm obviously very good at self-care, you see... Also, welcome to 2021, loves.
> 
> (P.S. - I literally imagined Arthur and Gwaine's meeting as the spider-man meme. I hope I captured that to some extent lol.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos keep Kilgharrah alive and saltier than ever.


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